


Proof of Life

by Sereko



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clintasha - Freeform, F/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 09:18:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7612501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sereko/pseuds/Sereko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had been hoping he’d swing by once Steve released them. She wasn’t positive he’d take the chance, but every muscle in her body relaxed once she realized he had. With their history, proof of life was more than a passing fancy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proof of Life

**Author's Note:**

> It’s a miracle! I finally wrote something again! My first time in a new fandom too. I’ve been wanting to write Clintasha fic for ages, but it took a while before I felt I could get their voices right… hopefully I did! This is just a quick little ditty post Civil War, getting my feet wet and all. Hope you like it!

Natasha entered her apartment like it was any other day. Keys tossed in the little glass dish Sam had picked up for her in Argentina. Purse stored under the credenza, dropped casually but not without purpose so it didn’t tip over into the foyer. She stripped her blazer off with a sigh of relief. Being this new respectable public figure took its toll. She enjoyed the work - mostly because it didn’t take her away from being on the field with the Avengers - but it was a new role to play, a new mask to wear.

“Long day?” Clint didn’t wait for her to react to his voice before continuing. He knew she would have clocked his presence from the slight shift of her welcome mat - one of their signals. “I’d like to think it’s because I gave you such a run for your money.”

Natasha rolled her eyes at him as she proceeded into the open kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. She held up a second glass to him in question, but he shook his head. “I’ve already moved on to something stronger.” He lifted up two fingers of scotch. She scrunched her nose in distaste.

When she finally made it to him, she kicked off her heels and flopped onto her back on the couch. “You did not give me a run for my money.” She lifted up enough to down about half of her water and then fell back again, eyes closed. “You have to be less obvious next time. Wanda shouldn’t have been able to tell.”

“Oh come on, things were crazy! Bug boy turned into a giant. They were literally tearing apart an airport. Forgive me for thinking she wouldn’t be paying attention to us lowly humans.”

She conceded the point. Fighting her friends was stressful enough, she didn’t have the energy or the desire to argue that Clint had actually been trying to hurt her. Her heart already hurt knowing he was recruited in the first place.

“How’s the wife?”

Clint opened one eye from where he’d leaned his head back on the top of the chair and took stock of his friend. It had been a big deal when he’d married Laura, when he’d bought the farm house, when he’d had kids… when he’d laid down roots. But her tone wasn’t resentment, just exhaustion.

“Suitably pissed. As expected. She thought for sure my retirement would stick this time.”

“If it didn’t stick seven years ago after Liechtenstein, I don’t know why she’d think it would stick now.”

They both mulled over that in silence for a while. Natasha stared at the ceiling and how the street lights were dancing upon it. She realized then that she forgot to turn on her hall light. Normally, it would have been the first thing she’d have done when she sensed someone in her house as darkness was not always the covert friend she needed, but she’d seen the angle of the mat and knew she could let down her guard.

She had been hoping he’d swing by once Steve released them. She wasn’t positive he’d take the chance, but every muscle in her body relaxed once she realized he had. With their history, proof of life was more than a passing fancy.

Her hand itched to reach out to him. It was not a compulsion she was used to ignoring, but things were complicated now.

She felt something at her side and looked to see that Clint had moved to sit on the ground with his back against the base of the couch. It was a subtle touch, his hair just skimming her arm. It was an opening and she warred with herself if she should take it or not. Had the day, the week, the year not been so long, maybe she would have succeeded in resisting.

Her arm seemed to move almost of its own accord. She watched it as it snaked across the couch and over his shoulder. He immediately reached up in answer and trapped her palm against his heart. She felt it beat, strongly, once… twice…

Proof of life.

Her next breath was shaky. It caught her off guard considering she hadn’t actually been fearful for his life in recent memory. The whole Accords ordeal had done its own kind of number on her, though, and there was something about knowing that this man wasn’t lost to her that choked her up. She curled her arm across his chest in a sort of backwards hug and held on for dear life.

“I’m here. I’m here,” he soothed.

“This is why you came.”

“Me? Assume the formidable Black Widow, intimidator of men, might have needed a brief reminder that she’s not alone on this big, ugly planet? Never.”

She didn’t follow him into the lightening of mood, instead she let him intertwine their fingers and pressed her forehead to the back of his neck.


End file.
